


with your love, nobody can drag me down

by prettyluke (buttonjimin)



Series: hurt/comfort fics [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, luke and ashton are sad pieces of shit, luke won't tell his boyfriend he's sick, the band doesn't know and reacts accordingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttonjimin/pseuds/prettyluke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is sick and won't tell his boyfriend. Everyone is a big piece of shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with your love, nobody can drag me down

**Author's Note:**

> undoubtedly one of the shittiest things i've written, proceed with extreme caution

Luke wakes up and knows.

His throat hurts like fucking hell and it shouldn’t, because Ashton won’t fuck his mouth when they’re on tour for this very reason. He’s been doing all the right vocal exercises and he hasn’t been straining himself much at all, at least not enough to make it feel like this. His nose is only a little stuffed, but considering that swallowing feels like someone is shoving a cactus down his throat and his head is being rattled, it doesn’t really feel like a mercy.

He glances across at Ashton, who lies asleep still, face in the morning sun. Ashton always looks so happy when he’s asleep. Luke’s whole body aches, and he wants to just crawl right in next to Ashton and bury his face in his chest, let Ashton cuddle him and solve everything. But he wouldn’t want to get Ashton sick too, and he doesn’t want to come off as whiny.

He drags himself out of bed and to the bathroom to wash up and get ready. There’s an interview today, but luckily no concert. Of course, it means he’ll be spending an off day thoroughly miserable, but at least he’ll be able to get his symptoms under control before anything goes wrong.

He doesn’t look so bad in the mirror, he decides. He can probably pass off alright. He swallows again and winces. He won’t be singing again for a few days. The thought sours in his stomach. Great. This is great, he’s going to need to be on voice rest and bed rest if he’s unlucky, and he’s definitely going to have to stay away from Ashton and the other boys.

By the time he leaves the bathroom, still wet and half naked from his morning shower, Ashton’s just opening his eyes. He brightens when he sees Luke come out of the shower.

“Morning, babe, you’re up early,” Ashton says with a sleepy smile.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep with all this sun,” Luke says with a huff, moving towards his suitcase for clothes.

“I think I’ll go shower. Pick up your stuff a little, we’re flying tomorrow.”

Luke frowns to himself as Ashton disappears into the bathroom. The sunlight pouring through the slats of the blinds makes his head feel like it’s being squeezed, so he goes and pulls them shut. He flops down on Ashton’s bed instead of his own and sighs at the mess before him.

He’s messy, it’s true. Nothing on Michael, but Ashton is always on his case for it. It’s hard enough for him to baby three boys and he doesn’t need to be picking up after them, as he always says. Usually, Luke is quite amenable to anything Ashton asks, but he would rather curl back up in bed right now. He’s too shit to even shove it all back to his side of the hotel room.

He curls up under the covers and pulls them under his chin, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the things that are bothering him. Maybe if he thinks about it hard enough, they’ll go away by sheer will power. He’s sure Ashton would go down and get some medicine for him if he needed it, but Luke doesn’t want to trouble him overly much. He doesn’t want Ashton to realize he’s sick either, because then he’ll baby Luke and they’ll both end up sick and getting yelled at by management and the other half of the band.

Luke should never have lain down, because his weary body is desperate for some external rest while his insides battle it out, and he’s quickly drifting off despite all his nasty symptoms. By the time Ashton walks blindly out of the shower fully dressed and toweling his hair off, Luke’s breathing has slowed and he’s dead to the world again. He wakes to Ashton shaking his shoulder none too gently.

“Luke, wake up. Luke! Come on, you gotta get out of bed.”

Luke’s eyes flutter back open, meeting the sunlight (of course Ashton opened the blinds again) and Ashton’s own hazel eyes, which are staring rather impatiently into his own.

“I told you to pick up your stuff,” Ashton says, a tad exasperated. “Instead you went back to sleep. Come on, we gotta get out of here in a few minutes. Interview, remember? Get up and tidy up a bit before we go, could you?”

Luke sits up and wants to whine, loudly. Instead he settles for pouting and saying, “I’ll clean it up when we come back.”

“Luke, I don’t like it messy. Can you please clean up now?”

Luke gets out of bed and begins kicking his clothes over to his side of the room. He does it rather ungraciously, and so Ashton pulls at his arm and says sternly, “I won’t ask you twice.”

Luke scowls, crossing his arms and blinking back the tired tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to deal with your shit, but I have to anyway.”

“Room with Cal, then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ashton looks irritated now, and Luke grits his teeth and picks up a shirt, folding it more dramatically than perhaps he needs to and tossing it into his suitcase. “A little faster, babe, please?”

Luke feels his head throb whenever he bends down and feels the blood rush in. “I’m going as fast as I can. There’s not enough time.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Ashton says tiredly. Luke should know better than to argue; Ashton has no patience in the mornings, and doesn’t know he’s sick.

Luke knows it’s his own fault, and so he shuts his mouth and finishes, swallowing hard against his tears. Ashton sighs somewhere in the background and moves to kiss him when he’s done. “I’m sorry, babe, you know I like things clean.”

Luke pushes him back before they can touch lips, worried he’ll get sick. Ashton’s brow furrows, but he lets it go, probably figuring Luke’s in a bad mood. Luke doesn’t want a kiss anyway; he’s still bristling from being yelled at.

Ashton glances at his watch. “Oh, fuck, we’re late,” he says, ticked off, though not really at Luke anymore. “Come on, we gotta go. And there’s no time for breakfast.”

Luke reluctantly follows Ashton out the door. Ashton practically stalks down the stairs, both his pet peeves triggered. Luke wants to stay behind and pout some more, but he has work to do, and he doesn’t want to annoy Ashton again. Especially not now, when he’s already so irritated.

They make it down to the car ten minutes later than they’re supposed to, and Luke gets into the very back of the van alone, letting the other three sit in the middle row without him. Usually Ashton would join him, but Luke says petulantly, “I’m sitting alone,” and Ashton huffs at the rebuke and settles into the middle seat. Luke can see the hurt in Ashton’s posture and clenched jaw. Calum and Michael raise their eyebrows at each other, and Luke feels his skin crawl, though from what he’s not sure.

“Where are we interviewing again?” Calum says boredly.

“Nova with O’Loughlin, so it should be fun,” Ashton says shortly. He’s clearly unhappy now.

“Turn the AC down,” Luke says from the back, his head resting against the window. He shivers a bit, curling into his sweater.

“I’m hot,” Michael complains.

“I’m freezing,” Luke shoots back. “Turn it down.”

“Luke, you can have my jacket,” Ashton offers hopefully, attempting to patch things up.

“Don’t want it. Turn the AC down,” Luke insists, feeling small and upset. The cold air is blowing fiercely on him, and it’s making him even more miserable. Ashton’s sweater won’t warm up his face.

Ashton scowls and turns the dial sharply. “Happy?” he says with a bit of an edge on his voice.

“Yes,” Luke says, but he keeps shivering anyway. This time he doesn’t bring it up.

“Chill, guys, it’s just AC,” Calum interjects. “Did someone put salt in your sugar shakers this morning, or something?”

Ashton stares moodily out the window, and Luke tries to stay warm in the silent car.

When they get to Nova, they tumble out to a huge crowd of girls waiting by the door. Luke nearly forgot that they show up everywhere. He can’t let them know he’s under the weather, so he plasters on a weak smile and takes some halfhearted pictures. He shoves through as quickly as he can and bursts into the radio station, where security guards start leading him to the booth. He hears the door open a few times behind him as the other boys make it inside.

“Behave yourself,” Ashton whispers dully into his ear. “I know you’re mad at me still, but—”

“I know,” Luke snaps. Ashton looks at him in mild surprise, a bit of hurt registering in his eyes, and Luke sighs and shuts his eyes. His head pounds, and his stomach is starting to churn as a result. He gnaws on his lip and tries to focus. Ashton pushes past him into the booth, and Luke is the last one to go in. He fits the headphones over his ears and adjusts them to his head size and braces himself. He shouldn’t talk or his throat will hurt worse.

“So, boys, how’s the tour going so far?” Angus says, the typical beginning question. It’ll be easy for Luke to ride this one out.

“It’s great,” Ashton says with his billion watt smile. “More fans than we’ve ever seen before. We’ve gotten more opportunities lately than we ever thought we would.”

“Touring is not that fun,” Michael protests playfully. “They all smell, none of them will shut up, and Calum has been stealing my underwear again.”

“You like when I wear your underwear.”

“I do not,” Michael says with a scowl.

“You think it’s kinky.”

Angus laughs. “How is the new single blowing over?”

“Oh, I really like it,” Calum says happily. “The fans have gotten it to a couple million on YouTube.”

“And Luke, bit of stubble growing in?”

Luke shrugs, half in a daze. Ashton nudges him hard, and he coughs. “O-oh. Yeah, just haven’t had time to shave.”

“He likes to be suave for the ladies,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “Spends a million years on his hair every day and none on taking it off his chin.”

“Ladies my ass,” Ashton says.

“That’s just weird, Ashton,” Calum says, shaking his head. “Are you introducing our fans to your butt? We can show it to them if you want.”

“Fuck off. Now you’re just being an ass.”

Luke takes a shaky breath and leans back, shutting his eyes briefly before one of the boys elbows him awake. His lower back is starting to ache. He wants to lie down now, but he can’t. It’s practically unbearable. He feels like he’s falling apart at the seams, there are so many things that hurt. Being sick is so balls.

“Luke!” Someone yanks the headphones off his head. “Hey, it’s over.”

Luke gets up and lets himself be herded out the door. Standing is worse than sitting; he tries to clear his throat and ease the phlegmy, sore feeling, but fails.

“Let’s go to lunch,” Michael says. “Wanna?”

“Yeah, sure,” Calum says. Luke wants to cry, but he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s being a baby or make fun of him. It’s Michael’s favorite thing to do, anyway.

“Can we go home?” Luke asks, trying to sound endearing and not like he’s going to cry at all.

“It’s lunch time, Luke.”

“I don’t wanna go to lunch,” Luke says, sounding more childish and tetchy than he wants to. “I’m tired.”

“Why are you tired? You sat in there and sulked,” Ashton says, eyes boring into him in a way that lets him know his attitude earlier was not forgiven. It makes him want to throw up to know Ashton is upset with him. It’s the worst feeling in the world, worse than being sick right now, and makes everything that much shittier.

“I—I didn’t sleep well,” Luke says, approaching whiny. “I wanna go home.”

“I’m hungry,” Ashton says, stony.

“Fuck you guys,” Luke says, rubbing his eyes. “I’m gonna go home.”

There’s a silence in the group. “I don’t want to go if Luke doesn’t,” Calum says, and Luke thanks the gods above.

“Then we can’t,” Michael says, shrugging.

“Guess not,” Ashton says. “Let’s go home.”

Luke can’t even muster the strength to say thank you.

He ends up in bed while the others get lunch. It feels good on his back, although he’s not exactly sure what’s going on. Ashton comes up the stairs later, sighs, and hands him the sandwich he brought him. “Here, you shouldn’t skip meals.”

Ashton’s always taken care of Luke, no matter what. Ashton used to worry about Luke eating for legitimate reason, when he was 15 or so and was afraid to change in the locker room and was afraid to eat in front of the band and was afraid to leave his room, Ashton would sit with him one on one and bring him ice cream and dinners and taught Luke how to love himself. Ashton may be upset with him, but he doesn’t ever want to risk Luke’s health or send him back in a bad place. The thought sends another crippling pang through Luke’s chest.

His head is making him queasy, but he can’t bear to make Ashton sad, so he takes it and does his best to eat it.

The first few bites aren’t bad. The sandwich is good, and Luke didn’t have breakfast, so even his sick body is grateful. Ashton seems a little more relaxed after Luke has eaten the sandwich, even though Luke can feel the last bites sticking in his throat.

“I’m gonna go over to Cal and Michael’s room for a bit,” Ashton says. “Think they’re watching a movie. Wanna come?”

Luke shakes his head. “Don’t want to.”

“Suit yourself,” Ashton says indifferently. “Love ya, babe.”

“Love you too,” Luke mumbles. Ashton leaves the room

The sandwich settles uneasily in his stomach. He squirms in bed, turning in his side and curling around it. If things didn’t hurt badly enough before, they do now. A sweat breaks out along his skin. An hour passes with his skin crawling and prickling and his stomach churning.

He should tell Ashton. He should let Ashton baby him and cuddle him up and make him feel better, but he won’t. He can’t bother Ashton. Ashton will think he’s being whiny, or exaggerating.

He makes it to the bathroom in time to throw up into the toilet, losing all of the minimal food he’d had today. His head spins dizzily as he stands up and splashes his face with water. He washes his mouth out, one hand braces on the sink, and steadies himself. The urgent chant of _just get through today, don’t bother anyone, it’ll pass_ intensifies in his head. He sighs. He hates being a burden, always has, no matter how much the boys tell him at midnight when he crawls into their bed with nightmares whispering _sorry sorry sorry_ that he’s not a trouble at all.

Ashton returns to the room a little later and catches sight of Luke lying in bed. “You alright? Look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” Luke says tersely.

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I could get you a soda, or—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Luke growls, turning over on his stomach and burying his face in the pillow.

“Stop yelling, I’m trying to be patient,” Ashton says, getting grumpy again. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?”

Ouch. Luke huffs into his pillow, grateful that it’ll hide the tears that spring to his eyes. It’s like he can’t stop himself from being a total bitch. “Nothing. Go away.”

There’s a long pause, and then Ashton seems to snap. “Fine, Luke,” he says, angry now. “Fine. I’ll go away. We’re going out to dinner, by the way, so drop the attitude and pull your shit together. I don’t have time to deal with you being an asshole. Sorry for trying to help.”

Luke listens to Ashton’s footsteps stomp away, and then the door opens and slams shut. He grimaces, his head pounding for a second after. He can’t remember the last time he and Ashton fought like this. Maybe they never have. Luke’s too addled to think about it; it’s no surprise, seeing that everything hurts like a bitch.

He pulls the blankets way up over his head and swallows hard. He should find a way to apologize. He could do it straight up, just say he’s sorry and cross his fingers that Ashton will accept it. He could do something sweet for Ashton maybe, buy him something, clean the whole hotel room and put out a nice tweet that Ashton will understand the meaning. Ugh. The thought of Ashton being angry makes Luke want to throw up again. Ashton’s always nice to him, even when he’s miserable, and Luke has just been mean all day.

Being sick is just a load of shit.

 

* * *

 

Luke manages about two hours of sleep, miraculously. He nearly suffocates under the blankets, which could be a good thing if it means he gets out of this misery. His joints still hurt and if anything, his throat is scratchier, but at least his headache has subsided. He’ll take what he can get at this point.

The room is still empty, though. Luke rolls over onto his other side and sighs, looking at the vacant bed that Ashton would probably be sitting on if he wasn’t mad. He should tell Ashton he’s sorry now.

He drags himself out of bed, his stomach growling and reminding him that it’s completely empty. He should go to dinner with the boys, even if Ashton’s angry.

He rubs at his eyes, looking around the room. He needs to find his Vans and a jacket. His shoes are by the door, but his eyes stop on a piece of paper on the door itself. Ashton must have left it there, he must have come in and out without Luke waking up. Luke makes his way over to it, bare feet padding on the carpet.

_Gone to dinner. Will bring home something for you to eat. -A_

Luke has been on the verge of tears all day, but now he has to really fight to calm himself down. It doesn’t matter that his joints feel like they’re grinding together with every movement and his throat feels like someone raked it with a chainsaw; the only thing Luke can think of is that Ashton has gone to dinner with the other boys _without him_ and he’s got to be really mad.

Luke doesn’t let himself cry because it’ll stuff his nose up and hurt his head, but he does sit on the ground right there and think about it.

Fuck Ashton. This is not how boyfriends treat each other. Luke is sick. Ashton should have realized. Ashton should have been more patient. Ashton should have done a lot of things.

But Luke knows immediately that it’s unfair to say that. Ashton was patient. Ashton tried to redeem himself. Luke ignored it. Luke is the one at fault. If he wanted lenience, he should have told Ashton he was sick.

By the time Ashton and the other two boys  come back, Luke has been sitting on his bed for an hour, staring at the wall and trying not to cry. His throat aches simply from the strain, and his hands are clenched tight in his lap.

“Hey,” Ashton says, holding up a styrofoam box of food. “Brought you back something.”

“Really?” Luke says flatly. “Hooray.“

“If you’re gonna be an ungrateful bitch about it, then I’ll eat it,” Calum says.

The whole band is fed up with him, Luke realizes. He’s been a horrible person all day and none of them really want to be around him.

“You went without me,” Luke says bitterly, trying to stay calm and sound like he doesn’t care. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Michael sighs exasperatedly. “Luke, you’ve been biting our heads off all day. Forgive us for wanting a break.”

“You know what? Fuck you guys.” Luke is about to cry and he knows it. He wants to hurt all of them back. His lip trembles viciously. “Fuck you. Get out, go. You don’t want me around, I get it. So go.”

Ashton’s eyes narrow and he drops the box with a hollow thud on the bedside table. “Alright, that’s it.” His jaw twitches, and Luke knows it’s game over. “You’ve been a brat all day. You’ve been ornery, rude, irritable, and downright mean. You’ve been a bad-mannered, immature fuck to all of us, and I’m sick of your shit. All I did today was try to apologize and be nice. Fuck _you_ , Luke. You’re acting over dramatic and uncalled for, and I—fuck.”

Ashton cuts off midsentence when he realizes Luke has shut his eyes and his whole face is damp. Luke is a fairly silent crier, and Ashton was so caught up in his diatribe that he managed to miss it.

“What are you crying for?” Ashton says, trying to sound angry but his voice cracking. They don’t fight often, but when they do, Luke is an obstinate fuck, and he fights back hard. If Luke was acting like a brat because he was just in a bad mood, Ashton knows him well enough to recognize that Luke is not okay.

“Nothing,” Luke sobs, fisting at his wet eyes. “Go on.”

“Hey, hey,” Ashton says weakly. “What’s going on?”

Luke coughs, raising a shaky hand to cover his mouth. “Nothing, I’m fine. It’s okay. I’m sorry for being a brat.” The tears stream persistently down his cheeks, and Ashton bites his lip, gesturing for the other half of the band to go before taking a seat next to Luke.

“Come on, babe, tell me what’s wrong,” Ashton sighs. “I know this isn’t just you in a bad mood.”

“I’m sick,” Luke wails, collapsing sideways onto Ashton. “My throat hurts and my head hurts and my whole body _hurts_  and I threw up my sandwich and I’m cold and everything sucks. I didn’t mean to be mean and I’m sorry.”

Ashton shushes him and pulls him onto his lap, letting him cry into his t-shirt. “Oh, Luke,” he says sadly. “You should have told me. I would have been a lot more patient.”

One of Luke’s favorite things about Ashton is that his anger never lasts long. Luke is grateful, because right now he needs desperately to be cuddled, and Ashton knows. “I didn’t wanna bother you,” Luke sniffles. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“It’s okay, you weren’t feeling good.” Ashton smooths his hair back, fingers brushing over his forehead. “I think you’re running a fever, too. Luke, babe, you’re well and truly sick. No wonder you’ve been so miserable.”

Luke claws at Ashton’s fingers. “Please hold me. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s alright, I know.” Ashton squeezes him. “You gotta get in bed, though, alright? I’m gonna run down to the drug store and grab you some medicine. Then I’ll hold you. Okay?”

Luke slumps; it’s been a sad and stressful day and he’s dying for Ashton to love him a bit. But Ashton is right, and he reluctantly crawls under the covers. Ashton kisses his forehead and smiles.

“Be good while I’m gone,” he warns with a wink.

It’s hard to wait, it really is. Luke feels better to know that Ashton isn’t mad anymore and is going to take care of him, because Ashton always takes care of him the best. He should have told Ashton this morning, he really should have, but now is good enough. He tries to relax while Ashton is gone.

Ashton returns in half an hour with ibuprofen, flu medicine, and some tea. He quickly has Luke dose up, pointing out that he’ll feel much better when his body doesn’t hurt and his temperature is back to normal. Luke hates medicine, but swallows it down anyway. Ashton is right.

“Now cuddle me,” Luke says piteously.

“Eat your food and drink some tea,” Ashton says patiently.

Luke pouts a little at that, but does as he’s told. He can’t skip meals, and shouldn’t have gone hungry so long. They both know that. The tea does feel good on his throat. Of course, though, Ashton knows what he’s doing.

When he’s done, Ashton climbs into bed with him and wraps his arms around him. Luke’s tired body molds against his without a word, and with the medicine kicking in, he is fast to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

Luke gets to sleep in late the next day. By then, the news of Luke being sick has spread to his other bandmates, who not only wish him well on Twitter but try in vain to get past Ashton and hug Luke. They’re staying in the city a few more days until Luke is ready to travel, and so Luke is subject to Ashton’s boyfriendly pampering.

Luke really regrets keeping his mouth shut now, because it’s so nice to have Ashton take care of him. He makes sure Luke wants for nothing, feeding him in bed and watching hours of stupid cartoons with him. He lets Luke wake him up in the night as many times as he wants when he’s in pain or unhappy. Luke’s favorite part, though, is when Ashton sticks him in the bathtub and bathes him. They’ve showered together before, but this time Ashton lets Luke sit still while he soaps up his hair and rubs it in. Luke giggles when Ashton scoops some foam onto his nose.

“Stop it,” he says as Ashton scoops it into his hair. “I’m all bubbly now.”

“You look so cute,” Ashton protests. “C’mon.”

“Ashton!”

“Alright, alright.”

Ashton rinses it all out and lifts him out of the tub, making him stand on the mat while he takes the towel and dries every inch of him. Luke repeatedly points out that he doesn’t need to go that far, but Ashton is determined.

In bed that night, Ashton holds Luke extra tight. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, some,” Luke agrees with. contented sigh. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch in the first place.”

He can feel Ashton smile against his neck. “You should have just told me. We could have been doing this from the start.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Luke says, wriggling down further under the covers, still pressed firmly against Ashton.

“That’s what good boyfriends do,” Ashton says, kissing his hair. “Get some rest. We need you better as soon as possible. I hate not being able to kiss you.”

Luke laughs. “I love you.”

Ashton just holds him tighter and sings lullabies in his ear until he drifts off. Luke is sure that he’s the luckiest boy in the world, with firm arms around his waist and a pretty voice in his dreams.

Nobody could make him happier.

**Author's Note:**

> i was working on inconsolable and flowers in your hair and then i got bored so i did this instead lmao  
> title from drag me down by one direction (holy shit tho that song is a jam)  
> xx


End file.
